It's very vivid, this damn thing is just a moving chunk of iron, but it's also a chunk of iron with a sufficiently thick front armor and a large slope. Now, no anti-armor firepower on either side can penetrate its front armor.
Su Ming sent quite a few lobbyists. In the end, probably for the sake of appearance, the military still purchased a batch to use as infantry support weapons. At least other anti-tank guns need to be towed, but the Iron Wall assault gun can move by itself, right?
In contrast, the rifles, pistols, grenades, and other individual weapons produced by Wilson Enterprises passed smoothly. After all, Su Ming could draw complete blueprints identical to future classics, which workers could produce on their own.
Before entering the war, the United States had very few troops, only about 8 regular divisions, plus 14 National Guard divisions, adding up to less than 600,000 soldiers. After entering the war, they rapidly expanded to 2 million, eventually reaching over 4 million, all needing standard weapons.
Wilson Enterprises had accumulated a large stockpile of weapons over the years, starting preparations back in '29, originally intended to aid the Celestial Dynasty, but now had excess stock.
While other military-industrial enterprises were still promising the military their production capacities of so many guns per month, Wilson Enterprises, with the advantage of over a million units in stock, directly crushed them.
Initially, there was considerable resistance within the United Kingdom to reequipping troops with American weapons because their ammunition calibers were different from all other countries. Using foreign weapons equated to abandoning their military industry.
However, after the Dunkirk evacuation, they had no choice. Due to weight considerations for the ships, the 330,000 that returned had basically lost all their light and heavy weapons.
Domestic weapon production would take about half a month, and lacking steel and coal, production capacity couldn't keep up. Additionally, policies favored the Navy, prioritizing resource allocation for large-scale construction, leaving the homeland almost undefended for more than half a month.
The British organized local legions, where many elderly gentlemen took out ancestral weapons. With an average age over fifty, they used items like Treasure Swords, sabers, and bows and arrows to defend their homes, known as 'Daddy's Army.'
So the question arose: either allow the warriors to use cold weapons from the Wars of the Roses centuries ago or immediately re-equip with American-sold weapons. Wilson Enterprises supported installment payments and collateral.
Despite being unfamiliar with these weapons and the subsequent plethora of issues, there was no choice. If they didn't want to end up like the French, forming an exile government in another country, they had to accept American 'help.'
During wartime, you used whatever was available. Issues of rearmament, training, or any chain reactions were for politicians to ponder. Soldiers needed to fight desperately on the battlefield, and having weapons that worked well was most crucial.
This wasn't a typical conscription of later generations. The British were grabbing people off the streets, telling them the Empress needed them, and handing them some random weapon to go to battle. In short, killing one Fascist wasn't a loss, killing two was a gain, and the British were gambling furiously.
In a few days, the situation on the Fur Bear's side would be similar, with the quality of soldiers and officers severely affected by the Great Purge, leaving them vulnerable to Xiaohuzi's advance to Moscow.
The French guerrillas were in an even worse situation. Now De Gaulle was begging for weapons on credit, and only Su Ming 'kindly' spared some for him.
The United Kingdom now lacked weapons, energy, food, lacking everything.
Even Prime Minister Fatty Qiu could only eat one sandwich a day, relying on cigars and absinthe to stave off hunger, claiming to work twenty-three and a half hours a day, too hungry to sleep at night.
However, Steve knew nothing about these behind-the-scenes details. He still gazed admiringly at the massive tank. To a military enthusiast like him, the larger the war machine, the more powerful it seemed. The Iron Wall self-propelled anti-tank gun was exceptionally large, with a good two or three dozen soldiers on the screen sitting on it, dozing off as the tank advanced.
Out of nowhere, a farmer with a donkey cart flashed across the screen, overtaking them.
Steve frowned. That donkey cart was going too fast—truly unconcerned about traffic safety…
Yet the soldiers on the tank didn't even blink; they were used to it. Steve was quite pleased, as this showed the US Army's strict discipline, never troubling the civilians—they even gave way to the donkey cart!
These soldiers were holding a new carbonated drink, orange-flavored, said to be more nutritious, called Big Power.
Mr. Wilson liked using the Chinese name 'Dali,' often spouting odd sayings like "Dali brings miracles." It was also a new product of the enterprise, issued as military supplies with compressed biscuits to the front lines.
Steve once ate a compressed biscuit following the standard method illustrated on a military ration pack, then gulped down a bottle of Big Power, only to feel so bloated that he vomited, making Baki laugh heartily.
Even though Wilson Enterprises' business was booming and relations with the military were growing ever more intimate, he never considered using Mr. Wilson's connections to go to the battlefield.
Even unfamiliar doctors discouraged him from enlisting, let alone Mr. Wilson, who was familiar with his health. Given his personality, if Steve insisted on joining the army, Mr. Wilson would likely be very generous and use his connections to place him in the logistics headquarters in Washington or some office where there was plenty of oil and water but never a chance to use a gun in his life.
He didn't want that; if not fighting on the battlefield to protect the nation, enlisting would be meaningless.
As he pondered this, a discordant scene appeared in the cinema.
A man a few rows in front of him was shouting.
"Boring! Hurry up with the movie!"
Those around him expressed their displeasure but only with disdainful looks since shouting in a cinema was very impolite.
But Steve couldn't see it that way. To him, contributing to the country was an honor. Their ability to watch a movie here was won by the soldiers on the front lines at the cost of their lives.
So he immediately called out to stop him.
"Hey, can you show some respect?"
The man in front didn't respond, and the image shifted from tanks to infantry, with wounded soldiers being carried on stretchers to a makeshift hospital.
"Our lads are giving the Axis Powers a run for their money on the front line, but freedom has never been free..."
Yet the narrator's voice was drowned by the louder voice of the viewer in the front row, who wanted to see zombies—not some commercial tricking people into getting themselves killed.
"Hurry up! Continue the movie!" shouted the man unscrupulously, attracting the gaze of those around him: "I want to see Alice fight zombies! Play the feature film now!"
Steve couldn't tolerate this attitude any longer. He leaned forward and raised his voice.
"Hey! Can you shut up?!"
The person in the front row shut up, and not only that, he stood up, turned to face Steve.
A giant Black Shadow entirely blocked the small-framed Steve, the shadow pushing him tightly against the seatback.
The man stepped over several rows of seats, picking Steve up like a Little Chicken, and dragged him toward the cinema's back door.