The Rise Of A Billionaire 1943-Chapter 59 - 65 – Drowning the Japanese in Agent Orange

Heavy-caliber mortars.

Even before General Jiang and his team made their request, Pierre had already been considering large-caliber mortars. After all, given Carl Metals’ technical capabilities, mortars were the most realistic artillery option.

However, the Allied forces—especially the British and Americans—had little interest in large-caliber mortars. The U.S. Army’s 107mm chemical mortar was powerful but far too heavy and produced in limited quantities, making it unsuitable for the domestic battlefield.

What kind of mortar did the Chinese battlefield need?

The 120mm mortar.

To reduce development difficulty, Carl Metals leveraged its status as a military contractor to obtain captured German-made Gr.W.42 mortars from U.S. forces in Italy. This weapon was a German clone of the Soviet PM-38, weighing just 285 kg, with a barrel length of 1865 mm. It fired 15.8 kg WGr.42 shells and had a maximum range of 6,050 meters. The 120mm Gr.W.42 was a remarkably successful copy, beloved by German front-line troops, and incredibly cheap—just 1,200 Reichsmarks per unit.

So, when General Jiang mentioned artillery, Pierre naturally recommended the Gr.W.42. At just $500 per unit, the price alone won over the delegation.

There was no denying it: cheap wins wars.

In just two days, after live-fire testing and confirming its 6,000-meter range, General Jiang placed an order for 1,000 mortars and 300,000 shells, using only the remaining funds from the previously approved light machine gun budget.

More often than not, the best weapon is the one you can afford and use, not the one with the shiniest specs.

Some tools may not kill directly, but their impact can far exceed conventional weapons.

"My God. I swear this must be God’s magic..."

At KTJ Chemical Industries, Pierre stood reading aloud from a letter, his voice ringing through the office.

"Once, this entire island was swallowed in thick green jungle. The damn Japs would hide just yards away in the rainforest, up in the canopy, waiting to pick us off. We all agreed—the jungle was an even worse enemy than the Japanese.

But now, thanks to KTJ’s miracle workers, we’ve got Agent Orange. God bless you. As the spray planes flew overhead, we watched with our own eyes—the leaves falling like autumn, the trees going bald. Even the branches shriveled. A single rainstorm later, the once-dense jungle was just dead stumps. And there they were—the Japanese, exposed like scarecrows.

God bless you, KTJ. You’ve given us God’s magic. This stuff saved thousands of Marines."

Finishing the letter, Pierre smiled proudly and addressed the people gathered around him:

"Gentlemen, that’s just one letter. Over the past few days, we’ve received hundreds just like it from Marines in the Pacific—each one thanking us for our product..."

Everyone turned to look at Mr. Gaelston, and someone called out:

"Gentlemen, let’s give Mr. Gaelston a round of applause. His invention has saved thousands of lives."

The room erupted with clapping and cheers as Gaelston stood beaming with pride.

Watching the pride on Gaelston’s face, Pierre smiled as well.

Agent Orange had not disappointed him.

"If we’re going to kill millions of Japs," he thought, "in the end, it’s Agent Orange that’ll do the job."

Hunger was often more effective than bullets. What would Japan look like in the grip of mass famine?

Pierre didn’t care to imagine it. Just as he never stopped to ponder the long-term effects—health risks, environmental fallout. In his view, those were just added bonuses.

"Right now, the only question is how to produce as much Agent Orange as possible—or rather, how to get the U.S. military to spray as much of it as they can across every battlefield."

In another timeline, Agent Orange had arrived too late to play a major role. But in this world, thanks to Pierre’s intervention, large-scale production was two years ahead of schedule.

Demand in the Pacific had been so urgent that the very first batch was rushed to Guadalcanal, where it was used to flush out the remaining Japanese holdouts. The results were spectacular—the letters were proof.

Now the only question was: how far was the military willing to go with it?

"There’s no doubt the military will move forward," said Paul Swell confidently from across the office.

"These letters aren’t just thank-yous—they’re basically pre-orders. The military will definitely expand their orders. The results speak for themselves. They’d be crazy not to."

Pierre shook his head slightly and said,

"They’ll expand, no doubt—maybe another 5,000 tons, maybe 10,000... or even more."

"Boss," Paul said bluntly, "if it goes past 10,000 tons, the military might start outsourcing. They may even ask us to share the technology."

"That wouldn’t be good for us," he added. "We’re nowhere near the scale of a giant like DuPont."

Pierre lit a cigarette, took a deep puff, then exhaled slowly and said with a cold smile:

"That doesn’t matter."

"Why did I build this company in the first place? To save as many of our soldiers as possible—and kill as many Japanese as we can. If that means handing over patents to every company in the country, so be it. In war, our only interest is victory."

As he smoked, Pierre cast himself in a lofty light. But truthfully, all he cared about was killing more Japanese—everything else was secondary.

Sure, there were plenty of ways to make money.

But if he could kill Japs and make dollars at the same time—now that would be perfect.

"So," he said, "what we need is to convince the military to order 100,000 tons—no, 200,000 tons!"

Paul’s eyes widened in shock.

"Boss... are you saying you want to drown all of Japan in Agent Orange?"

100,000 tons.

200,000 tons.

Could Japan really be drowned in Agent Orange?

Pierre didn’t know for sure. But what he did know was what he needed to do.

As someone who stood with the Chinese cause, how could he not offer whatever strength he had to this war?

"It won’t be easy..." frёeweɓηovel_coɱ

He stood before the massive world map pinned to his study wall, brows furrowed deeply. Every now and then, he took out a ruler and measured the distances between the islands and Japan.

"In the end, we still need to take the Marianas..."

He let out a sigh and stared again at the photograph pinned to the map—a picture of the B-29 long-range bomber.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is fr(e)𝒆novelkiss